


Aftermath

by peternurphy



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/pseuds/peternurphy
Summary: Nyarlathotep comes to take care of his human after an assassination attempt.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [earnshaws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earnshaws/gifts).



Randolph Carter had been curled in his bed for the better part of the day. He was unable to sleep; he could not bring himself to read a book or work on speeches or talk to the cats. He simply lay still and picked listlessly at the frayed edges of the bandage around his chest, his mouth dry but his body too tired to stand up and pour a glass of water. Aoede had come to sit with him; it had been calming - but she had business in Ulthar to attend to, and Randolph was loathe to force her to stay.

His fingers caught against a sticky length of string that had come mostly detached from the rest of the bandage. He tugged slightly against it and watched as the bandage began to split against his skin. Underneath was pink with streaks of white and red. It melded easily with the white bandage - and if the bandage had not peeled off, Randolph would not be sure where it ended and the wound began.

He shut his eyes again. The sight of the wound made him nauseated. He had seen fish offered for the gods in Ulthar, once. They had been filleted and left out on a public altar in the middle of the summer; Randolph only saw the fish days after it had been set out. Despite the bottles of wine and flowers strewn between the fish, his eyes had gravitated to the rotting pink flesh on the stone table. The smell of the water and the rotting had mixed into the flowers and the sweet grapes; it had overwhelmed Randolph so much he had collapsed there in the street. When he looked at his wound, he smelt that horrid mixture. 

The attack itself was not as bad as what followed. He had been standing and speaking when a figure in black had thrust a sword through the side of his chest and vanished. Randolph had barely processed it - he had been too shocked to even faint. But when the courtiers rushed to him and he was taking to the hospital and attended to, the reality of the wound and of the attack came to him. He had elected not to try the waking world - he didn’t want to see that body marred, too. The smell continued to emanate.

He buried his head under his pillow. The sweet scent lingered heavily in the air. Why was that so damn strong? He held his breath as much as he could; quickly his head began to hurt. Nothing he did could stop that smell from hanging in the air and crushing his head. His skull seemed to narrow against his own will, as if there were something pressing on it. At any moment it might have split under the pillow, and Randolph’s brains would have spilled across the bed for anyone to feel through.

“You didn’t tell me you were attacked.”

The voice was quiet. Randolph slowly pulled the pillow off of his head and sat up. He didn’t need to put on his glasses to recognize the figure before him as the Crawling Chaos. Then he hissed and bent over his wound, holding onto the bandage. The pain shot out from where the sword had entered his body, a sharp center behind his rib cage that radiated outwards into an ache that stretched his entire rib cage. He groaned as he felt one of the bandages fall from his skin, too ravaged by his nervous tic to stay in place. He put his hands over the wound to try and hold the broken skin closed; he felt something warm and wet on his fingertips.

“They only gave you a bandage? Of course you’re in pain,” said Nyarlathotep. “I made the sword myself, you know.” He sat on the bed and began to pull at the bandages that remained. Randolph winced as it tugged on his skin; he did not move away from the god. “And I  _ do  _ apologize. Some of my acolytes can become quite fanatic… They love me. It’s disgusting.” He took the bandages and vaporized them in the air, then pushed long fingertips into the broken skin.

Randolph did not scream. The sensation was too strange - like Nyarlathotep was splitting him apart. He had had that same sensation from the god before. But now, Nyarlathotep wasn’t smiling. Randolph’s pain and his subdued response seemed to give no pleasure to the god. He glanced down at his own wound and watched as Nyarlathotep’s fingers began to rise. The streaks on his skin faded slowly; Nyarlathotep hummed and focused his face as he reached the top of Randolph’s skin. 

“So it was one of yours?” Asked Randolph. Nyarlathotep’s fingers grew hot against his skin, and he hissed. The calm expression on Nyarlathotep’s face tightened; soft lips pressing into each other in a very human type of annoyance.

“I didn’t order it,” said Nyarlathotep.

“Then why would he attack me? Why would your follower attack me if not on your orders?” The wound had healed under Nyarlathotep’s touch; Randolph sat up and looked at the god. The expression was still annoyed at Randolph, and Randolph simply crossed his arms. 

“I didn’t order it,” Nyarlathotep repeated. He now glanced away from Randolph, his lips still pursed and eyes still hooded. A few tendrils of light twitched along his skin. When Randolph attempted to touch them, he felt nothing. “When you had jumped from the Shantak, I was quite unhappy, Randolph Carter.” Nyarlathotep let out a small sound and dropped the pout as he took Randolph by the torso, pulling him into his lap. The fingers laced into each other and rested on Randolph’s stomach; he poked gently into it and smiled as Randolph yelped. “It was quite rude of you. I… may have spent some time talking about you in Kadath, in my cults...”

Randolph laughed. Nyarlathotep didn’t pout this time. Instead, he screwed in his eyebrows and gave Randolph a harsh pinch on the buttock with a hand that had slid underneath. Despite the pain, Randolph still grinned up at him. “So I left an impact,” he said.

“I could shatter every bone in your body with no consequence, Randolph Carter,” said Nyarlathotep. “I could fill your blood with acid the next time you had to speak, make it pour from your mouth. I could take hold of your body and make you do unspeakable things to yourself and to your courtiers...”

“And none of it would change the fact that you were thinking of me,” said Randolph. He was grinning still - he could not stop grinning. He laughed and turned his head against Nyarlathotep, and he felt a hand lay on his head. But his eyes weren’t pulled out, and his skull wasn’t shattered, and there was no acid put into his blood. Instead, he felt the fingers brushing gently through his hair.

“ _ Regardless _ , Randolph Carter, I have to assume he believed it would please me. And you will be happy to know that I was  _ not  _ pleased, and I had him sealed in a specific dimension to ensure no future assassination attempts.” Randolph looked up slowly to see Nyarlathotep’s face curl with pleasure. Nyarlathotep’s hands strayed down across Randolph’s body; Randolph remained quiet.

“You killed him for it.”

“Tortured him, dear.”

“Then forgive me for my assumption,” said Randolph with an eye roll. Nyarlathotep simply returned to stroking his hair. 

“If anything, I think he may have been jealous. I lavish little attention upon minor cultists - many of them begin to crave even my ire. None of them know of  _ this _ , but when they heard me ranting they had to have assumed you were important to me.” He laughed softly. “Before you try to make some little remark, I’m perfectly happy to admit you’ve taken some importance.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?”

At that, the stroking stopped. Nyarlathotep looked away; the twitching light appearing again across his skin. Randolph sat up, though with a twinge of regret. For looking so bony, Nyarlathotep’s lap was quite comfortable. He reached forward; his hand shook as he took Nyarlathotep’s cheek. “I won’t say anything outside of this room. I won’t even make fun of you. I want to know,” said Randolph. Still, Nyarlathotep stayed with tendrils twitching and his face turned away.

“I was going to toy with you,” Nyarlathotep answered. His voice was quiet; he almost sounded sheepish. 

Randolph laughed softly. “Did you think that would… what, scare me off? I know what you do - I know you relish in pain and torture.”

“You  _ are  _ rather naive.”

Randolph rolled his eyes. He settled himself back into Nyarlathotep’s lap. “I got to you,” he said. He took Nyarlathotep’s arm and pulled it over himself. “Torture me all you want, kill me - it won’t change that I got to you.”

Nyarlathotep reached again to pinch him. He pinched into Randolph’s flesh, letting blood spill out over his hands and into the bed. But Randolph stayed smiling - and eventually Nyarlathotep let up, looking down at him with a smile.

“Insolent little thing,” he said, but he settled against Randolph to lay with him, eyes shut in a rare calm.


End file.
